Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

After writing the instructions, Xilun put down his pen and gently rubbed his temples with his fingers.

A slight fatigue crept into my body.

"I'm a bit tired today."

He felt a strange soreness in his eyes, as if tiny grains of sand were rubbing against his eyeballs, so he subconsciously rubbed his eyes hard.

This may be due to the nerve pressure caused by prolonged use of extraordinary senses such as "far hearing".

Just then, Rena walked in from outside, carrying a plate of fresh sliced ​​fruit.

She moved with light steps and happened to see Xilen rubbing her eyes.

"My lord, are your eyes sore?" Rena placed the fruit plate on the corner of the table and asked softly.

There was a hint of concern in her voice.

Xilun lowered his hand, his eyes slightly red.

He didn't hide anything and calmly replied, "That's true."

Rena didn't say anything more, but turned around and said, "I'll go fetch a basin of well water right now."

Before long, she brought over a clean iron basin filled with cool, clear water that had just been drawn from a deep well.

She wrung out a soft white towel and respectfully handed it to Xilun.

Xilun took the towel and wiped his eyes with the cool steam.

The sour and stinging sensation dissipated considerably.

"I feel much better now." Xilen handed the towel back, sighing softly. "It was really uncomfortable just now."

Reina blinked her cool, clear eyes, unable to suppress her curiosity:

"I have seen some people with eye problems in other places before, but most of them were old men in their forties or fifties who stayed up all night looking at account books."

"Sir, you are so young and healthy, how could you have such symptoms? If you feel unwell, you should seek medical attention as soon as possible and not delay."

Xilun glanced at her, a gentle yet distant smile playing on his lips.

"It's just a ailment I picked up from my days struggling at the bottom of society," he said casually. "I have dry eye syndrome. Whenever I use my eyes too much or my mind is too tense, they always feel burning and uncomfortable."

Upon hearing this, Reina's cool eyes flickered.

But Xiren had already closed his eyes, leaned back in his chair, and didn't intend to say anything more.

He simply waved his hand, his voice returning to its usual calm: "Alright, it's getting late, you should go back and rest too."

Rena bowed slightly, then quietly withdrew, carrying the iron basin.

The next morning.

As the first rays of sunlight pierced through the thin mist in the northern area and fell on the bluestone slabs in the branch's backyard, Xilun had already finished his two-hour high-intensity morning exercise.

He was enveloped in white steam, like a demon god about to awaken.

"Let's begin."

Xilun took off his shirt, revealing his upper body covered with well-proportioned muscles and solid scars.

He stood calmly in the center of the courtyard, giving orders to the two burly strongmen who had been waiting for a long time.

The two strongmen, each wielding a heavy, specially made cast iron ruler, exchanged a glance, then shouted and took turns swinging the rulers, smashing them hard against Xilun's body.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Dull, resounding impacts echoed through the courtyard.

Xiren has been undergoing such extreme and self-torturing training to withstand blows for more than a month.

During this period, the progress of the "Bone Forging Iron Armor Ascetic Method" can be described as rapid.

Thanks to the exotic talent "Golden Tortoise Molting" that he plundered from the Extreme Ironclad Tortoise, the speed at which his body tore apart and healed reached an unbelievable level.

He mastered this ascetic method much faster than any other martial art, and was even beginning to catch up with the earliest technique he practiced, the Bellero Kick.

"Slap! Slap! Slap!"

The iron ruler kept falling, and the strongmen were covered in sweat, their hands numb from the impact.

As the sun was about to reach noon, suddenly, strange "beep beep pop" sounds came from under Xilun's previously taut skin.

The sound was faint at first, but then grew louder and louder, like a muffled thunder coming from the depths of one's bones!

Xilun suddenly opened his eyes. He felt the surging power in his body, like a river, completely merge with his well-honed physique on some extremely profound level.

In a daze, a semi-transparent phantom image faintly condensed on the surface of his body!

That was an unusual phenomenon caused by the outward release of Qi and blood—iron scales and a golden back, a protective armor!

At that moment, Xilun felt his body suddenly become lighter.

The dull pain from being struck by the iron ruler completely disappeared, replaced by a feeling of exhilaration, as if swimming in rivers, lakes, and seas.

The surrounding air was like seedlings growing naturally, and wisps of its essence seeped into his body through his pores, constantly refining his physique.

The two strongmen around him were so shocked by the powerful aura that suddenly appeared that they instinctively stopped what they were doing.

They stared at Xiren, mouths agape, in disbelief.

The bruises on Xilun's body from being hit by the iron ruler began to fade and heal at an incredible speed, eventually restoring his original smooth and resilient skin.

As the illusory iron armor slowly merged into his body and disappeared, Xilun slowly exhaled a breath of stale air.

He suddenly had a completely new feeling.

It seemed as if he was being tightly enveloped by an invisible aura, and his physical strength was even greater than before.

[Skill: Bone Forging Iron Armor Asceticism (Expert)]

[Progress: 0/1000]

……

[Skill: Berello Kick (Expert)]

[Progress: 757/1000]

……

[Skill: Sea Whale Guidance (Tier 4)]

[Progress: 1875/4000]

……

[Skill: Natan Heavy Gunnery (Expert)]

[Progress: 412/1000]

……

Compared to the previous proficient level, there seem to be many qualitative changes.

Xilun felt that his body was covered by a thin, illusory layer of something similar to strength and closely connected to blood and qi.

This thing is like a real knight's armor, incredibly thick and heavy, giving people an absolute sense of security, but without the cumbersome feeling of wearing heavy armor.

"Very good," Xilun murmured to himself.

He clenched his fist, feeling the power erupting between his knuckles.

He was absolutely confident that, even without using any extraordinary abilities, he could withstand a full-force attack from an extraordinary expert without being at a disadvantage, simply by relying on his well-honed physique!

He was very satisfied with this progress.

His cold gaze swept over the two men standing there, dumbfounded. The two strongmen, as if waking from a daze, immediately dropped their iron rulers, knelt on one knee, and congratulated him fervently, "Congratulations, sir, on your great improvement in skill! You've made a breakthrough!"

Xilun nodded slightly and pointed to a cast iron ruler on the ground.

"Perfect, let's test the power of my expert-level asceticism. You, hit me with the iron ruler with all your might."

The strongman who was called out swallowed hard and picked up the iron ruler.

He took a deep breath and, using 80% of the strength he had used in training, slammed his fist down on Xilen's shoulder.

"clang!"

A crisp sound, like metal clashing together, rang out.

Xilen didn't even blink, his body remaining completely still. He shook his head in disappointment: "Seems like I don't feel anything."

The strongman was taken aback, gritted his teeth, and his muscles bulged as he channeled all the power in his body into his arms.

"ha!"

He roared, gripped the ruler with both hands, leaped high into the air, and slammed the ruler down on Xilun's chest.

This time, the force was even greater than before, definitely the strongest man's full peak strength without holding back!

"Bang!"

The iron ruler struck Xilun hard in the chest. However, the immense force of the recoil instantly returned.

The strongman felt a sharp pain in his hands, and his tiger's mouth split open, splattering blood.

The heavy iron ruler flew out of his hand and into the distance.

In contrast, Xilun only had a slight red mark on his chest, not even a broken skin.

Xilun touched the red mark thoughtfully, and then the red mark disappeared without a trace under the blessing of his talent.

"It seems we need to switch to heavier weapons. Ordinary pig iron is no longer effective at tempering them," Xilun said calmly.

He casually picked up a towel and wiped his sweat: "That's enough for today. Go and collect your rewards."

Back in the house, Xilun took a hot shower.

Under the scalding water, his pores opened slightly, slowly expelling the black impurities from his body. Each breakthrough was a complete purification of his physical body.

After showering, he walked out of the bathroom wearing a loose bathrobe and drying his wet hair with a towel.

Just then, the butler walked over carrying a thick stack of documents and stood respectfully by the door.

"Sir, while you rest, I'll give you a briefing on the branch's progress over this period."

Xilun walked to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a glass of strong liquor, and gestured for him to continue.

The butler opened the account book, a hint of pride in his voice:

"Now, our North Division has completely taken control of the Seven Seas Processing Plant, which was originally controlled by Dianno, as well as several other acquisition sites that were originally infiltrated by various forces."

Currently, the internal workings of the association are very harmonious, and there are no dissenting voices.

Last month's net profit, after deducting all expenses, reached ninety-eight pounds!

This is definitely a huge sum of money.

In the lower part of the city, an ordinary worker wouldn't be able to save that much money even after ten years of hard work.

But at this point, the butler's brow furrowed slightly:

"However, sir, we may face a bottleneck next."

Without new opportunities or new territory, our development will likely stagnate.

Xilun held his wine glass and took a small sip.

He was naturally concerned about development, after all, according to the agreement with Yuri, he was to keep half of all the profits generated here.

This is his absolute asset for future attempts to reach the second tier or even higher levels.

"What do you think should happen next?" Xilun asked the butler calmly.

The butler closed the ledger, clearly having been prepared, and said in a deep voice:

"Currently, there seem to be two directions. The first is to open up an underground trade corridor connecting the north and south as soon as possible."

However, this path is difficult, involving too many obstacles and stakeholders, and is unlikely to be fully implemented in the short term. Second…”

The butler paused, his eyes sharpening: "It means expanding our resource points outwards, broadening our base."

He walked to the map of the North District on the wall of the study and drew a circle on it with his finger.

"My lord, you see, starting from our Brotherhood's base and heading east, there is an extremely vast abandoned plain, which is the territory of the Scarlet Training Society."

Those lunatics are incredibly powerful; we can't interfere. And our West…”

The butler's finger slammed down on an area marked with an iron fist.

"The West is Iron Fist's territory."

Siren stared thoughtfully at the location on the map. The Iron Fist Gang, one of the long-established powerhouses of the North District.

The gang leader, Dawson, is a veteran who has remained at the first-tier extreme realm for many years.

"The next step is to take down the Iron Fist Gang..." Xiren muttered to himself, a dangerous glint flashing in his deep eyes like that of a lone wolf in the wilderness.

He put down his wine glass and walked to his desk.

"Then let's test their strength first," Xilun said coldly.

He pulled out a sheet of paper with the fraternity emblem, picked up a pen, and wrote a few lines in a flowing, elegant style.

After finishing writing, he folded the letter, put it in an envelope, and tossed it to the butler.

"Send someone clever to deliver this letter to Dawson, the leader of the Iron Fist Gang."

Tell him to come to me in person tomorrow morning.

"I want to hear how he plans to explain himself regarding the bribery of Diano."

The butler took the heavy letter with both hands, not daring to even glance at it, and carefully put it into his pocket.

He knew full well what sending this letter meant. It meant that the North District was about to face a bloody storm.

"Yes, sir. I'll take care of it right away."

The Iron Fist Gang headquarters is located in a massive fortress converted from an abandoned church in the western part of the North District.

At this moment, however, the interior of the church was far from peaceful.

A noisy commotion came from outside, as if some kind of disturbance had occurred.

In the spacious office of the Iron Fist Gang leader, Dawson, sat upright in the large mahogany chair.

He was a man nearing fifty, with slightly graying temples, but his body remained as hard as a rock.

Several hideous knife scars on his face tell the story of his early years spent living on the edge of a knife.

He was leisurely holding a cup of strong tea, gently blowing on the tea leaves floating on the surface of the water.

"What's going on? What's all the noise outside?" Dawson frowned slightly, his voice deep and authoritative.

The door was pushed open, and a trusted subordinate walked in looking somewhat flustered.

"Boss, we're verifying the situation. Someone just forced their way through our outer outpost..."

Before his subordinate could finish speaking, another intelligence officer strode in with a letter, interrupting the report.

"Boss, it's a letter from the Brotherhood! The messenger was extremely arrogant, saying he wanted you to review it personally."

Dawson's eyelids twitched slightly.

The Brotherhood? That newly appointed young governor, Siron?

He put down his teacup, extended his large, calloused hand, and took the letter.

Dawson tore open the envelope and read it line by line.

The handwriting on the letter exuded an indescribable sharpness and domineering nature.

After reading it, Dawson's expression was surprisingly calm, without the slightest hint of anger or offense.

He simply placed the letter lightly on the table and rested his hands on his chin.

"What else did the messenger say?" Dawson asked quietly.

The leader swallowed hard and said in a low voice:

"The messenger also said... that you should personally go to the Brotherhood branch to see Lord Siron tomorrow morning."

If you are late, you will be responsible for the consequences.

Upon hearing this, the subordinates standing in the office immediately showed anger, and some even put their hands on the gun handles at their waists.

"Arrogant! A mere brat who hasn't even grown his first beard thinks he can rule the North District just by killing a turtle?!"

Dawson ignored his men's clamor. He lowered his head and stared intently at the letter on the table with his sharp, eagle-like eyes.

He fell into deep thought, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table.

A full five minutes passed.

"Meeting."